


Go Go Power Rangers

by MichaelSmitherman1



Category: Mighty Morphin Power Rangers, Power Rangers, Power Rangers (2017)
Genre: Gen, Morphin Grid (Power Rangers), Other, Power Rangers - Freeform, Rangers, red ranger - Freeform, rita repulsa - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:54:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22670572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MichaelSmitherman1/pseuds/MichaelSmitherman1
Summary: A modern retelling of the original Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers, this story focuses on five quirky, inexperienced teenagers (Jason, Billy, Kimberly, Zack, & Trini) as they just try to make it through their sophomore year of high school, as well as occasionally fighting evil space witches and giant gold monsters.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 2





	1. Teamwork (Jason)

CHAPTER 1: Jason

I know what you’re wondering: how is it that five high school kids got chosen over literally anyone else to save the world from an evil space witch?  
I will be 100% honest with you: I have no clue. And I’m thinking about that right now.  
“Okay, does anyone know how to pilot this thing?” I shout to my teammates, rather panicked. The controls in the T-Rex Zord were a lot more simple than the controls here, and that was hard enough to learn.  
“You’re leader. Shouldn’t you know how to pilot it?” Zack asks in his snarky manner. I ignore him.  
“Billy, you know a lot about robotics, right?”  
“A high school robotics course is very different than combining alien dino robots, Jason!”   
Okay, so even Billy doesn’t know. I guess we’re all screwed.  
We hear a giant, monstrous roar from outside the Megazord cockpit. All of us go into a hysteria.  
“Can you not call Alpha?!” Kimberly is practically screaming.  
I can’t believe I hadn’t thought of that. I mess with the communicator on my wrist, trying to find the call button.  
“Do you not know how to call him?” Billy says, judging my inability to comprehend alien technology.  
“Excuse me for being a high school student trying to work cosmic tech!”  
I start pressing buttons randomly. I finally hear a digital voice speak: Hello?  
“Call Alpha!” I shout into it.  
Calling Alpha now.  
I wait a few seconds, and hear the quirky robotic voice. “What is it?” He sounds bored.  
“Alpha, we need your help with the Zords!”  
“You just woke me up from a nap, so this better be good.”  
Zack interjects. “Wait, you’re a robot, and you’re taking naps?”  
“I don’t tell you how to live your life!” Alpha yells back. “What do you need, Jason?”  
“The Megazord. We managed to put it together, but we don’t know how to pilot it.”  
“Here’s an idea: why don’t you test out your powers and Zords before you get into a fight.”  
“Just help us!”  
“Okay. What do you want me to do?”  
I’m amazed at how incompitent he can be sometimes. “What do you think? Help us pilot this thing!”  
“Did you not read the instruction manual?”  
I’m confused. “There was an instruction manual?”  
Alpha pauses before speaking again. “Oh. Uh…. did I forget to tell you all about that?”  
“Just tell us how to pilot it!”  
“Well, how did you pilot the Zords individually?”  
I stop to think about that. I’m honestly not sure. “We just figured it out, I guess.”  
“Good. Now think about how you piloted them individually, and do it together. Goodbye!”  
“WAIT! Can you not tell us anything else?”  
“No. Sorry. Zordon wants you all to learn the value of teamwork and self-discipline or something like that.”  
“But there’s a giant Sphinx monster outside, and if we don’t figure out how to pilot this thing, we’re all screwed!”  
Alpha pauses. “Well, sorry kid.”  
“WAIT, ALPHA, PLEASE DON’T-”  
Alpha hung up. Our AI assistant bot, designed specifically to help us with technical problems, hung up on us.  
Zack breaks the awkward silence. “Man, Zordon must REALLY hate us.”  
It’s right now that I start to regret signing on to this job.  
“Guys, we’re all going to die,” I say blankly.  
Trini, who’s been quiet and calm this whole time, finally speaks. “Does anyone want to make any confessions before we die?”  
Nobody says anything, until Billy speaks. “Kim, I’ve secretly had a minor crush on you since sixth grade.”  
I see Kimberly stop and look at him. I can’t really tell what her expression is under her helmet, but I’m pretty sure it’s a mixture of feelings.  
After a few minutes of tearing up the city, the Sphinx monster finally stops and turns to look at us. It is this moment where I self-reflect on my life choices.  
“It’s been good knowing you.”  
The Sphinx roars, and the charges at us.  
We all scream, ready to meet our demise.

To put a long story short, we didn’t die. Apparently when you start pushing buttons randomly you begin to get a feel for what everything does.  
So yeah. There is now a few million dollars worth of property lost, a giant dead Sphinx in the middle of the freeway, and five emotionally scarred teenagers.  
And I can’t help but blame myself for it.  
It was what happened today, i.e. five kids who didn’t know what they were doing, that lead to us agreeing to make the official “How to be a Power Ranger” guidebook for any future Rangers who might end up in our same situation.  
We weren’t really filled in on the job when we took it, and that’s what ultimately lead to what happened today. (Along with many other embarrassing scenarios that happened over the summer.) So whoever ends up taking the job after us, we want them to know what to expect.  
I get out my phone, and write my down the first rule in the notes app.  
JASON’S RULE #1: If you’re team leader, try and keep your stress low. The last thing the team needs is a leader who’s panicking.  
And yes, that panicking leader was me. Today and many other days since we became Rangers.  
I would question why Zordon chose to give us superpowers over an athlete, or soldier, or cop, or medic, or literally anyone else, but at this point I’m pretty sure basic logic doesn’t even exist anymore. So I haven’t ever bothered asking him about it. (He also kind of creeps me out, so I’m scared to ask him anything.)  
My phone buzzes, and I see a text from Billy to the group. Are you guys ready for the first year of sophomore year tomorrow?  
Billy has this weird obsession with school and academics to the point where I sometimes worry about him. It also doesn’t help that he’s a bit awkward around people, but he’s a nice kid. Just a bit under socialized.  
I reply Yes, because if I don’t reply he’s going to keep texting us until we say something back.  
While we’re on the subject of school, I might as well give my second rule.  
JASON’S RULE #2: Don’t stress too much over school.  
Seems pretty obvious, but I feel its pretty valuable.  
I look back at my phone, and I’m the only one that responded to Billy’s text. As per usual.  
So yeah. Now I’m just laying in my bed, hoping the road isn’t blocked off tomorrow.  
That is assuming the road wasn’t destroyed earlier today.


	2. School (Billy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy goes through his first day of sophomore year, ready to once again face the brutality known as high school.

CHAPTER 2: Billy  
I’m sitting at the back of the class, thinking this might finally be a year without my classmates acting like obnoxious idiots, unlike literally every other year of my life.  
I was wrong. Bulk and Skull (not their actual names), are throwing pencils into the ceiling, trying to see which ones stick. (Admittedly, its an interesting experiment to see which pencils are sharp enough to get stuck in the ceiling. But it’s still distracting.)  
Bulk and Skull are the kind of kids who try to be the “bad boys” of the school but just wind up looking like juvenile delinquents. I’m fairly certain almost nobody at this school likes them, and their choice of nicknames doesn’t help their reputation, either.  
I honestly don’t understand how people can be so idiotic. (Note: when I say “idiotic” I’m talking about behaviorally, not academically. I cannot speak for their academic capabilities.) And while this is a gross overgeneralization, the vast majority of these kids are the more “popular” ones. (I hate to use that term, as I have friends who are popular, but its the blunt truth.)  
Sitting right next to me is a couple - a boy and girl who are disturbingly overly attached to one another - on Snapchat, laughing at something I presume to be illegal. (I haven’t personally seen anything illegal happen in this school, but rumors run wild here at Angel Grove High.) I know next to nothing about how Snapchat works, but from what I’ve heard its just a breeding ground for school drama.  
In fact, I’ve tried my best to stay away from any social media due to school drama. It’s all pointless; we’re going to be leaving for college (or to work at McDonalds, depending on your intellectual capacity) in a few years, and by then I highly doubt you’ll care about who’s dating who or who got suspended for doing drugs in the locker room.  
So that’s why I stay away from social media, though I do have a hobby of posting DC and Marvel fan theories to Reddit. But that’s a topic for another day.  
“Hey, can you stop that?” a kid next to me says. Judging on the hostile look on his face, I am 54% certain he wants to kill me.  
“...I’m sorry?” I say timidly. I’m trying to be as polite as possible.  
“Stop doing that.”  
“What?”  
He proceeds to imitate me by violently fidgeting in his chair. “Stop doing that.”  
I feel a wave of embarrassment crash over me. “Oh… I’m sorry.”  
He just looks away, irritated. I wish I could explain why I fidget so much, but quite frankly I don’t even understand it. It just feels weird to sit still for so long. It’s just comfortable, I guess.  
As Bulk and Skull continue to throw pencils into the ceiling, I finally see Ms. Applebee, our English teacher, walk into the room. If I were her, I would’ve given them a Saturday detention for this, but then again I’m not an underpaid middle-aged woman, so I probably don’t have the best perspective.  
“Farkas, Eugene, please sit down,” Ms. Applebee says. I can see the embarrassment in their faces from being called their real names. They timidly sit down. I would like to tell you that I take no pleasure in seeing them humiliated, but that would be lying.

To summarize the day, I didn’t get much homework on the first day, but I do have to write a personal essay in English over what we did over the summer. And I’m actually quite looking forward to it, as I always like a chance to let my creative side out.  
My friend Kimberly doesn’t agree.  
“I can’t believe she’s assigning an essay on the first day,” Kim complains during lunch. Zack, Trini, and Jason are also there.  
“Would you rather be doing a bunch of random worksheets?” I ask.  
“Yes, I would. At least I know how to do that.” Kim is very smart, but really blows things out of proportion a lot of the time. That said, I really don’t understand how she could PREFER worksheets, but I suppose everyone has their strengths and weaknesses.  
With all of that said, I suppose I might as well contribute to the “How to be a Power Ranger” guidebook that we agreed to make yesterday.  
BILLY’S RULE #1: Prioritize school over everything else. The less you’re behind and worried about school, the easier being a Ranger will be.  
I look over and see Jason in distress, like he’s struggling to tell us something. Zack also notices.  
“You okay, dude?” Zack says.  
“Yeah, its just…. I’m sorry for what happened yesterday.”  
We’re all confused.  
“...for what?” Kimberly asks.  
“I panicked. I shouldn’t have scared you all.”  
“We were scared because of a giant Sphinx monster, not because of you.” Trini says, focused on doodling in her sketchbook.  
Trini is a weird person. She’s kind of a hippie, and barely talks, usually having her face buried in her sketchbook. Her art style is one of the most unique things I’ve ever seen, even if I find some of her drawings awkwardly disturbing. She’s nice, though, and is the only friend I had before we got this new job.  
Jason is still a bit insecure. “I wasn’t a good leader.”  
“As if you ever are,” Zack jokes. “You were fine. Alpha was just being stupid.”  
Jason nods. He’s way too hard on himself sometimes.  
I guess I might as well explain how this unlikely clique came to be: Jason and Zack have been best friends since fifth grade, both being athletes. (Though Jason is more into it than Zack is.) Kimberly, being a cheerleader and running track, was always also closely associated with that sector of the school. Trini and I had developed a friendship over the past few years, mostly due to being awkward introverts.  
To put it in simple terms, we were all in the right place at the right time. One thing led to another, and now we’re a team.  
And I can safely say that being part of this group has been the best thing that ever happened to me.  
That leads to me to my second rule to being a Ranger:  
BILLY’S RULE #2: Value your friends. Especially the new ones you’ll make.  
Lunch ends (too early, in my opinion), and we go back to class.  
The rest of the day is stressful, mostly due to sitting at the back of the class while people are acting out in the front. (Yes, I could sit in the front. But I find it less stressful in the back. Don’t judge me.)  
After a few hours of daydreaming, we’re dismissed, and I feel a rush of relief. I’m finally done with Day #1 of sophomore year.  
Actually, I’m not. My mom is late.  
Some kids in my grade can already drive (Jason and Kimberly turned sixteen over the summer, and got their licenses the day of), and some are doing driver’s ed. I turn sixteen next month, and have no plan on being in driver’s ed. In fact I’m kind of dreading it.  
My parents want me to learn how to drive soon. I honestly am terrified I might accidentally kill someone (or myself). I really don’t think a fidgety, anxious kid often lost in his own world should be able to drive.  
Then again, I’ve driven a giant blue triceratops robot. So maybe driving a car might not be so bad.  
But then again, I also crashed the Zord more than a few times. So maybe driving vehicles just isn’t my thing.  
While I’m waiting for my mom, I decide to brainstorm ideas for my English essay.  
Which also makes me wonder how Kimberly is doing on her essay….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the wait. I've had the chapters ready, but haven't updated this site yet. Updates will hopefully be more frequent.


	3. Homework (Kimberly)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kimberly struggles with her English essay, and goes to train with her friends at the Power Chamber, with mixed success.

CHAPTER 3: Kimberly  
I am honestly ready to die. I thought fighting evil space monsters would be the thing that kills me, but apparently not. This essay will truly be the death of me.  
Am I overreacting? Yeah, I am. I just have this weird anxiety about doing schoolwork. Especially something that isn’t straightforward, like a creative essay.   
Ms. Applebee seems like a nice lady, but I’ve heard she gives a lot of homework like this, as well as a lot of reading. It also doesn’t help that I’m in her Honors English class, which apparently has even more work like this than her regular classes.  
I honestly don’t even know how I got into Honors English, and what’s even more confusing is the fact that Billy didn’t. Maybe he just needed a lighter workload? I don’t know.  
I would ask my parents to switch me into regular English, but that would be a major blow to my chances of getting into Stanford. So I guess I’ll have to tough it out.  
I get out my computer and attempt to write something.  
It’s been fifteen minutes, and so far I only have “What I Did Over the Summer” at the top of the page. What am I even supposed to write? That I beat up some aliens with some friends while wearing pink spandex? I’m pretty sure they’d put me in an asylum if I wrote that.  
I start pulling random things from my memory to write down. Obviously I turned sixteen and got my license, and went on vacation briefly with my family, but that’s about it. Life really is just an endless cycle of boring with very brief moments of not boring sprinkled in.  
I decide to take a break and check my Instagram, and naturally I see people posting about asking others to homecoming already, even though its not until early October. I’m trying to not make a big deal out of it this year, especially my date last year was… not great.  
I hear my phone buzz, and see Jason texted the group. Zordon wants us at the Command Center to train. Apparently there’s a lot we need to do.  
Crap.  
I get out my communicator thingy, and try to remember which button teleports me to the Command Center. (Yes, I know it’s been four or five months since I’ve got this thing. But if you saw it yourself you’d have a hard time deciphering buttons as well.)  
Finally, I find the button, and press it.  
It feels like the world is spinning at lightspeed, and I begin to feel nauseated. I see a bright flash of light, and next thing I know I’m sprawled on the metal floor, dizzy.  
“You all really need to learn how to teleport,” I hear Alpha say. I look up at his short metal body. Sometimes I can’t decide if I love Alpha or if I hate him.  
I see everyone else over by the surveillance monitor, all holding their heads in pain from landing face-first on the metal ground.  
The room is mostly empty, with some futuristic computers on the side of the room and a giant screen on the back wall. What those computers do I can’t tell you, but I do know that we’ve all made a rule to not touch them unless your name is Billy.  
I walk over to my friends, reluctantly ready to get to work.  
“So what’re we doing?”  
A deep, booming voice echoes from all around us. “You need to learn to defend yourselves better. Every day Rita’s forces grow stronger, and eventually your base skills won’t be enough to stop it.”  
It is really awkward whenever we’re talking to Zordon, because none of us know where to look. (Apparently he’s in a space-time warp or something? I honestly don’t know.)  
“Can this not wait? I have something to do tonight,” Zack says.  
“What are you doing, Zachary?”  
Zordon is putting him on the spot. Zack doesn’t want to admit that he’s participating in a Mortal Kombat XI tournament that he was talking with Jason about at lunch.  
“That’s what I thought. You all need to know how to fight outside of your morphed forms, without your powers. You never know when you could be attacked.”  
I won’t argue with Zordon on this, but I’m not looking forward to having a wrestling competition with my friends, especially considering what happened last time.  
“Jason has volunteered to guide you all through learning martial arts and self defense.”  
We all look at Jason, confused.  
“...I took a martial arts course over the summer,” he says quietly.  
Here’s a history of our “training sessions,” if you can even call them that: every time we’ve sparred with each other for practice, we’ve been in our suits with our powers, i.e. the thing that is supposed to make us indestructible, and we still somehow ended up hurting each other and having to come up with an explanation to our parents about why we were coming home severely bruised.  
Now imagine if we didn’t have anything to protect us.  
This should be fun.  
The next thirty minutes consisted of Jason awkwardly trying to teach us various martial arts techniques, and every time we tried doing it ourselves it resulted in a black eye. Or a bloody nose. Or a dislocated joint. Or anything else you’d expect when you put five fifteen-sixteen year-olds into a ring and tell them to beat each other up.  
Thinking about it, I really am starting to question Zordon’s idea of “training.”  
While I’m busy sparring with Trini, (technically its just me on top of her while she tries to shove me off of her), I hear Alpha call to Zordon “Do you really think this is the best idea to have them just hit each other?”  
“Yes. They’ll learn the way eventually.”  
The only thing we learned today is that fighting without a suit hurts a lot more than fighting with one.  
Which reminds me that I need to contribute to the guidebook we’re making.  
KIMBERLY’S RULE #1: Expect the worst from training. And fighting without armor hurts a lot more than with armor.


	4. Homework (Kimberly)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kimberly struggles with her essay, and also goes in for some training with Zordon.

CHAPTER 3: Kimberly  
I am honestly ready to die. I thought fighting evil space monsters would be the thing that kills me, but apparently not. This essay will truly be the death of me.  
Am I overreacting? Yeah, I am. I just have this weird anxiety about doing schoolwork. Especially something that isn’t straightforward, like a creative essay.  
Ms. Applebee seems like a nice lady, but I’ve heard she gives a lot of homework like this, as well as a lot of reading. It also doesn’t help that I’m in her Honors English class, which apparently has even more work like this than her regular classes.  
I honestly don’t even know how I got into Honors English, and what’s even more confusing is the fact that Billy didn’t. Maybe he just needed a lighter workload? I don’t know.  
I would ask my parents to switch me into regular English, but that would be a major blow to my chances of getting into Stanford. So I guess I’ll have to tough it out.  
I get out my computer and attempt to write something.  
It’s been fifteen minutes, and so far I only have “What I Did Over the Summer” at the top of the page. What am I even supposed to write? That I beat up some aliens with some friends while wearing pink spandex? I’m pretty sure they’d put me in an asylum if I wrote that.  
I start pulling random things from my memory to write down. Obviously I turned sixteen and got my license, and went on vacation briefly with my family, but that’s about it. Life really is just an endless cycle of boring with very brief moments of not boring sprinkled in.  
I decide to take a break and check my Instagram, and naturally I see people posting about asking others to homecoming already, even though its not until early October. I’m trying to not make a big deal out of it this year, especially my date last year was… not great.  
I hear my phone buzz, and see Jason texted the group. Zordon wants us at the Command Center to train. Apparently there’s a lot we need to do.  
Crap.  
I get out my communicator thingy, and try to remember which button teleports me to the Command Center. (Yes, I know it’s been four or five months since I’ve got this thing. But if you saw it yourself you’d have a hard time deciphering buttons as well.)  
Finally, I find the button, and press it.  
It feels like the world is spinning at lightspeed, and I begin to feel nauseated. I see a bright flash of light, and next thing I know I’m sprawled on the metal floor, dizzy.  
“You all really need to learn how to teleport,” I hear Alpha say. I look up at his short metal body. Sometimes I can’t decide if I love Alpha or if I hate him.  
I see everyone else over by the surveillance monitor, all holding their heads in pain from landing face-first on the metal ground.  
The room is mostly empty, with some futuristic computers on the side of the room and a giant screen on the back wall. What those computers do I can’t tell you, but I do know that we’ve all made a rule to not touch them unless your name is Billy.  
I walk over to my friends, reluctantly ready to get to work.  
“So what’re we doing?”  
A deep, booming voice echoes from all around us. “You need to learn to defend yourselves better. Every day Rita’s forces grow stronger, and eventually your base skills won’t be enough to stop it.”  
It is really awkward whenever we’re talking to Zordon, because none of us know where to look. (Apparently he’s in a space-time warp or something? I honestly don’t know.)  
“Can this not wait? I have something to do tonight,” Zack says.  
“What are you doing, Zachary?”  
Zordon is putting him on the spot. Zack doesn’t want to admit that he’s participating in a Mortal Kombat XI tournament that he was talking with Jason about at lunch.  
“That’s what I thought. You all need to know how to fight outside of your morphed forms, without your powers. You never know when you could be attacked.”  
I won’t argue with Zordon on this, but I’m not looking forward to having a wrestling competition with my friends, especially considering what happened last time.  
“Jason has volunteered to guide you all through learning martial arts and self defense.”  
We all look at Jason, confused.  
“...I took a martial arts course over the summer,” he says quietly.  
Here’s a history of our “training sessions,” if you can even call them that: every time we’ve sparred with each other for practice, we’ve been in our suits with our powers, i.e. the thing that is supposed to make us indestructible, and we still somehow ended up hurting each other and having to come up with an explanation to our parents about why we were coming home severely bruised.  
Now imagine if we didn’t have anything to protect us.  
This should be fun.  
The next thirty minutes consisted of Jason awkwardly trying to teach us various martial arts techniques, and every time we tried doing it ourselves it resulted in a black eye. Or a bloody nose. Or a dislocated joint. Or anything else you’d expect when you put five fifteen-sixteen year-olds into a ring and tell them to beat each other up.  
Thinking about it, I really am starting to question Zordon’s idea of “training.”  
While I’m busy sparring with Trini, (technically its just me on top of her while she tries to shove me off of her), I hear Alpha call to Zordon “Do you really think this is the best idea to have them just hit each other?”  
“Yes. They’ll learn the way eventually.”  
The only thing we learned today is that fighting without a suit hurts a lot more than fighting with one.  
Which reminds me that I need to contribute to the guidebook we’re making.  
KIMBERLY’S RULE #1: Expect the worst from training. And fighting without armor hurts a lot more than with armor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More is coming.

**Author's Note:**

> This series will be updated frequently. New chapters coming soon!


End file.
